Joyful And Triumphant
by ColieMacKenzie
Summary: At the final scene of The Four Percent Solution, the doctor tells Mac something different than what we've seen on screen. How will Harm and Mac deal with this? Christmas fluff!


**Joyful And Triumphant**

**Disclaimer: **JAG and its characters belong to… uh, someone else (Bellisario, something or other?) In any case, they are not mine. I am just borrowing them for my, and hopefully other people's, entertainment.

**AN: **This story starts off at the beginning of the last scene of The Four Percent Solution, where Harm enters Mac's hospital room. However, the dialogue will be different (as it was in the original script), so pay attention! ;-)  
I thought I should post this here before Xmas, since 4PS was a Christmas episode... A warm and fuzzy feeling is what I intended - I hope I succeeded. Please enjoy!

This story was written for Pixie's Christmas ficathon where authors granted readers' story wishes, and this piece grants the following wish:

_The original scrip for The 4 Percent Solution had the doctor telling Mac… something different (I took out what so as not to spoil!) than what we've seen on screen. The wish was to see a story where the doctor does tell this to Mac with Harm by her side. How will they deal with it...? _

**AN: **Heartfelt Thanks go out to:

**Theresa - **For her idea, and all the information she provided along the way!  
**Pixie - **For all her work organizing this endeavor and quickly juggling the information I needed back and forth!  
**Doc - **For taking the time to answer all my questions so thoroughly!  
**Staz - **For tirelessly reading and re-reading this piece when all there was were scrambled up bits and pieces!

**Thank you all so much, this was fun!! **

Happy Holidays, everybody!!

**-- -- -- -- -- --**

**JOYFUL AND TRIUMPHANT**

**-- -- -- -- --  
**

Decisive moments in life usually happen when they are least expected. They tend to be coined 'decisive moments' not when they occur, but years later, when they are reflected back upon and seen for what they were – the point where life took a different direction, for better or for worse. Hers was brought on by wrapping her car around a tree on Christmas Eve. At this point still, all it was to her was a car accident. It could have killed her. It didn't. A lot of incidents could have killed her over the years. It was only when the doctor spoke those fateful words that she knew. Contrary to popular belief, she could label that particular moment, the instant when she was told what she had stopped believing in, to be exactly that – her decisive moment. Where it would lead, however, was still a mystery.

**-- -- -- -- -- -- **

_ December 24th  
0131 Zulu  
Pennington Medical Center; Sleepy Hollow, Virginia _

She wasn't even terribly surprised that he showed up; confused maybe, but not surprised. "Hey." Mac greeted him when he quietly entered her hospital room and made his way over to her bed. It sounded raspy and weak, just like she felt.

"What happened?" His voice was quiet; appropriate hospital volume, yet laced with worry. His hands were gripping his cover, twisting and bending it between his fingers, indicating the bone-deep anxiety he felt.

"Wasn't paying attention. Took a curve too fast." Darn that condescending radio psychologist. Darn that annoying song… joyful and triumphant her ass!

"Are you alright?" He was standing close to her bed now, and she could see the worry lines edged deeply onto his forehead. She might as well tell him; things were already bleak before and this newest development only reconfirmed what was apparently never meant to be.

"I had exploratory surgery. The doctor thinks I might have damaged my uterus." But what did that matter anymore; she didn't need it, it had become useless on its own accord. Still, it was just one more nail in the coffin that was her reproductive system.

"I'm sorry Mac." He meant it; she could read it in his eyes. He knew, he of all people; he understood.

Harm was shocked by her appearance as well as her revelation. She looked pretty beaten and weary, and at the moment, he didn't really know how to comfort her or where they stood. Although for his part, it was more a wondering as to where she stood. He knew exactly what he wanted, what he had wanted for a long time. Yet he couldn't push her. She had so much to deal with and he guessed she needed to figure some of it out on her own. After years of misunderstandings he had finally understood that, when things got rough, she needed time most of all.

Carefully, she tried to slide higher up in her bed in an unsuccessful attempt to find a position that might be less painful.

"How did you know?" She questioned, wrinkling her nose in confusion. He had told her once that he always knew where she was, but she doubted the directions would be that precise.

"An E-M-T called. Apparently, you were repeating my name, so he checked your address book."

She didn't know what to answer to that. Should she feel embarrassed about having called out for him? Yet she couldn't work up the energy; after all, it brought him here and she wanted, needed him with her. The intensity of what she was feeling startled her; having worked so hard at fooling herself that she could deal with things on her own over the previous months.

Gazing up at him, all she could do was take in his tall presence towering over the bed, the worry still prominently displayed in his features, and the slight awkwardness that had intruded the air around them. Any minute now, he would turn around and leave. The thought made her feel as though ice-cold fingers clamped around her heart.

He felt helpless. He wanted to envelop her in hug to reassure himself that she was truly still alive, he wanted to scold her and yell at her for driving recklessly, he wanted to kiss her senseless so it would be forever edged into her brain that she wasn't ever alone. Instead he just stood there, neither able to make one move forward nor one move back. Her face was radiating a quiet desperation, displaying vulnerability and countless other emotions that he so rarely saw on her because she locked them away deep inside. There was no way he could leave her.

"I'm going to stay here tonight."

A rush of warmth flooded through her until she remembered that it was Christmas and he should be somewhere else at this hour.

"Have you been to the Wall yet?"

"I was on my way." He said dismissively, as if it were of minor importance. But she knew what it meant to him; visiting his father on Christmas Eve was such an essential part of him that she couldn't possibly allow him to miss it on her account.

"Go. It's alright." She meant it, too. It wasn't what her heart wanted, but it was the right thing. He completely ignored her statement though, and instead folded his long frame into the pink hospital chair at her bedside and started fiddling with it. Leaning over its side with his head, he finally discovered a lever and pressed it. A sudden and rather rough motion reclined its backrest, startling him, and a footrest popped up as well, throwing up his legs.

"Look, this is perfect." He smiled. For a moment, his gaze held hers, daring her to just accept what was given. Going to visit his dad was important to him, yet he was sure that his dad of all people would understand that tonight, it was important to take care of the living.

"You're up. Good." The words of the doctor penetrated the little tentative bubble they had just erected around themselves. "Hello," he then addressed Harm, "are you related to our patient?"

Harm struggled out of the chair and came to stand next to her once again. "Friend."

"Well, she's very fortunate." Then the doctor concentrated on his patient. "There are no internal injuries as far as I can see," he reassured her.

"But I was in such pain."

"Airbag bruises," he explained. "They'll go away in three to five days. Everything else is fine. Urinary tract is good. You're having a normal ovulation. No bruising in the…"

Mac gasped over the last words. Suddenly, her head started spinning and it had absolutely nothing to do with her accident. Every other thought faded from her mind except this one tiny, monumental detail.

"I'm sorry, what did you say about ovulation?"

"I said it's normal."

She couldn't help but turn and look at Harm. His eyes were riveted on her, and amazement had replaced worry as the predominant emotion on his face. All she could do was gape at him; too overwhelming was it to consider that suddenly, all she had accepted as truth over the last months, what had tortured her and had taken hold of her thoughts and shattered her soul, might turn out to not be true.

"Is this surprising news?" The doctor wondered, finally having picked up on the bizarre undercurrents between these two people.

Hesitatingly, Mac tore her eyes away from Harm and looked at him. "I have endometriosis."

"Not always a problem."

Her mind was reeling. It couldn't possibly be true, could it? Could it be true? "It was two months ago."

At that, the doctor just shrugged and smiled at her. He didn't have an answer. Yet if there was one thing he had learned working in that profession, it was that miracles did happen, sometimes. And there was no better time for one than tonight.

"Merry Christmas," he told his patient and her 'friend' in his own attempt to sound jolly, and then he headed out of the room and towards his next patient, hoping to have more such fortunate cases tonight.

"That's great," Harm said when the doctor had left, a sense of wonder in his voice.

"It's amazing." She was stunned. She wasn't able to grasp what that might mean for her, for _their_ future. She realized that deep down, she had never given up on the hope that one day, Harm and she would finally get it right. That tiny spark had burned on despite her efforts to… to what, actually? To give him an out? She had kept him at a distance, even though she wanted him to be there for her… Was it because she was afraid he would settle for her out of a sense of obligation, shackled to a woman who couldn't give him what she had agreed to more than five years ago? All she had managed in the process was to alienate her closest friend. And yet… here he was, by her side, again… or still.

"I've been pushing you away."

"Yeah you have."

"I'm sorry." So very sorry. The apology was whispered in breathless, strangled agony. She had hurt him, again; she could hear it in his voice.

He heard it as well. He didn't want her to feel guilty; for now, it was enough that she recognized what she had done. "It's ok. You had to figure some stuff out, I understand." He scooted his chair closer to her bed, and reached for her hand, encircling it with both of his.

"Look, Mac, nothing's changed, I'm still here. Let's just enjoy the good news, and be happy." He held tightly onto her hand, outlining every curve as if to reassure that she was truly still in one piece. So much had happened in just a few minutes, and he couldn't help but feel really hopeful, for the first time in a long while.

The touch of his hands sent warm tingles across her arm, warming her through and through. There it was again, that song, penetrating her conscious from afar. Joyful and triumphant… yeah, maybe a little bit.

**-- -- -- -- -- --**

The children were beautiful. A little boy, maybe five, she'd estimate, and a girl. She was younger, perhaps three. They were holding hands, looking up at her. She didn't know their names, yet felt an eerie familiarity. The boy grinned, and she'd recognize that smile anywhere. As heart-stopping on the boy as it was in the grown-up version. Blue-green eyes, the color of the sea. Her gaze shifted to the girl. Brown, wavy hair framed her face, a nose cute as a button, and those warm, huge brown eyes that were trained on her.

She longed to wrap them in her arms, yet when she reached out her hands, they took a step backwards. She followed. They continued to walk backwards. Then they giggled and laughed, with that true happiness only children seemed to possess, and then they turned around and ran. She took after them. She could still hear their laughter waving back towards her, yet they were so far ahead. "Wait," she yelled, "come back," and she ran and ran. She faster she ran, the farther away they got.

The meadow she had been in gave way to a forest, suddenly rising up all around her, every step further enveloping her with darkness. Still she ran. She couldn't keep up. How could they be so fast? Suddenly, she couldn't see them anymore. Gone were their tiny silhouettes in the distance, gone the sweet velvet sounds of their laughter. She looked around. Darkness was everywhere. Tall trees were towering over her from all sides, seemingly coming nearer, closing in on her, pulsating, their branches reaching out, trying to squeeze the breath out of her.

She felt something, inside of her. She looked down, and her belly was large and round, protruding. She tried to lay her hands on it, but then the knife came at her again, and the words that accompanied it, echoing around her, bouncing of the trees and burning into her soul. "You defile motherhood…barren… barren… barren…" The knife came at her belly again. She screamed…

Her bloodcurdling scream roused him from the slumber he'd succumbed to seemingly mere minutes ago. It only took him a heartbeat to get his wits together and realize what had happened. She must have had a nightmare. He found her sitting up in bed, the tears were streaming down her face and she was breathing rapidly. Her hand was still squeezing his, so hard it was almost painful.

"Sshhh, Sarah. It's okay, it was just a nightmare," he tried soothing her in what he felt to be a ridiculously inadequate way, the pad of his thumb stroking comforting circles over her hand.

"No, we can't let them get way…" she mumbled, shaking her head, a look of bewilderment in her eyes that told him she hadn't quite left the throes of the nightmare yet. "The children… we can't let them get away…"

He got up from the chair, sat down on the edge of the bed and wrapped her in his arms. He was afraid he might hurt her, what with all the bruises from the accident, but it seemed the emotional pain she was in right now was far worse than any physical discomfort she might feel from his embrace. There was no resistance, though; she immediately settled her head in the crook of his neck. He slipped his other arm around her, gently stroking up and down her back while murmuring soft reassurances.

It didn't take long for her to calm down in his arms. He was her rock, her anchor. In his arms, she felt safe. Why had she been fighting it these past months? Why had she tried so hard to deal with everything on her own? She didn't know, but she was in no shape to analyze it right now. The vivid images of her dream were still branded onto her mind, her analytical brain already reeling with trying to extract its meaning. Not all that difficult to get, she thought; the message was pretty straight-forward, painfully obvious in its simplicity.

When he felt that her tears had stopped and her breathing had evened out, he broke their embrace, and she looked up at him.

"Harm, I'm…" she started, yet his index finger went to her lips immediately, tenderly silencing her apology.

"Sshhh, there's no need. You just had a nightmare, it happens to everybody." He could read her quite well sometimes, and he didn't want her to feel the embarrassment that he had seen lurking in the corners of her eyes. He put a soft kiss on her forehead, then eased her down on the bed again, before he stood up and looked down at her.

She could still feel the skin on her forehead tingling from the brief contact with his lips, and their hands were intertwined; never once had the contact been broken. She suddenly realized that they must have been holding hands ever since the doctor had left her room earlier tonight. It felt so normal, so right, oh so perfect.

"You should get some more rest. We'll talk about it tomorrow." With that, he sat down in his chair again, yet his hand did not leave hers and neither did his gaze.

"Will we? Talk about it, I mean?" She couldn't help but ask. She was fearful if it happened, and fearful if it didn't.

"We can talk about anything." He had told her months ago that he'd be there, that she could talk to him, and that he'd be waiting for her to come to him. Their gazes locked and held. In a sudden moment of clarity, they both knew that retreat was no longer an option.

She saw herself sitting at the beach again. 'There's so much more to talk about…', she had said, and he had answered, 'When you're ready, let me know.' It was time.

"I'm ready."

**-- -- -- -- -- -- **

She was pondering fate. Or rather, the cruelty of fate. She had been released from the hospital in the morning, and Harm had driven her home. He had built a fire in her fireplace, and made her sit and rest on the couch, and brought her hot chocolate with marshmallows. She was pretty quiet. She knew he might think she was pushing him away again, but it wasn't her intention at all. She just didn't know how to start the conversation they so desperately needed to have. The doctor's words had finally settled, and mixed and mingled in her head with the disturbing images of her dream.

What it all came down to was that fate was a cruel concept. Before, she had almost accepted the fact that she'd never carry a child. She hadn't known how to deal with it for the rest of her life, but she had _almost_ accepted it. Now everything was upside down again. Right now, at this moment, she had the chance to become pregnant. This window of opportunity might last another few days, or another few hours at most. Yet for one thing, she wasn't in a relationship with Harm, so she couldn't exactly 'jump his bones', so to speak. She also didn't want their first time (or any time after that, if she was honest) to only be about the conception of a child. She wanted love and passion, not calculated intercourse. And even if all that were in her favor, she still would not be able to do anything about it, because she just had a serious accident, she was hurting all over, and sex was very much out of the question.

So where did that leave her, or them? There was no guarantee whatsoever that this would happen again, and then she'd be right back where she started. She sighed.

"How are you doing?" Harm had finally stopped rummaging around in her apartment and came to join her on the couch. Once he had sat down, he lifted her legs onto his thighs and draped the blanket over both of them.

"I don't know," she admitted, "I don't know where to start…"

"Why don't you start telling me about your dream? It left you pretty rattled."

So she recounted the part about the children; how she couldn't reach them, how they were lost to her in the woods; the fear that had gripped her. She left out the part about Sadik's voice and the knife. She had never told Harm about that particular incident during her captivity. She thought it somewhat odd that after all she had seen and heard and lived through in Paraguay, it was the moment when Sadik had stabbed the knife into her fake belly that her mind kept honing on about. Ever since she had been diagnosed with endometriosis, it was a regular reoccurrence in her dreams. It was as if Sadik was mocking her from the grave, ultimately proving to have been right about her being barren. That it showed up in this particular dream only reconfirmed her fear that her chance was slipping away from her and there was nothing she could do about it. She mentally shook the image away.

"They looked like us, Harm." She admitted to him, then finally had the courage to look up. He took her hand in his and again drew tender circles across the back of it. He remembered it vividly, 'with your looks and my brains…' As if she could read his mind, she continued, her tone wistful.

"It was the other way around though; he looked like you and she looked like me,…" she trailed off.

"What do you think it might mean?"

"I feel as if I'm letting them down. I'm letting my children slip away."

Now he was clearly confused. "I'm sorry, Mac, you just lost me on this one."

"Harm, what if this is my only chance? Not too long ago, I was told that this might never happen. Now I'm ovulating, a miracle in and off itself, and it's passing me by. And there's no guarantee that this might happen again, ever."

"So despite what the doctor told you, you still believe you will never have children of your own, based on a dream?" He asked a little incredulously. He struggled with her logic.

"Don't be so condescending," she snapped at him. She wanted to get away from his scrutinizing gaze, yet he firmly held onto her hand, tugging her closer so she would look at him again.

"Hey, it wasn't meant that way, and you know it." She visibly deflated and looked a little guilty at her outburst.

"Mac, I'm just questioning your interpretation. I think it might mean something different."

"What do you think it means?" She could really do with a good straw to grasp at.

"Well, how about it's about you reaching for things. Just because you could not find them in the woods doesn't mean they aren't still there. It might simply mean you have to try different ways to reach them from now on, create opportunities, and then one day, you will find them…" Suddenly, they weren't really talking about the dream anymore. He needed her to see that the different way she should take from now on should be with him.

Interesting. 'Create opportunities', that's what her therapist had told her as well. She hadn't even considered any different interpretation than her own. His was much better. Could she allow herself to believe?

"I'd much rather believe in the half-full cup myself," he continued, smiling at her, "if it happens now, why should it not happen again? We need to have some faith."

She sighed sadly. "I think I lost mine a while ago."

"You will find it again, I promise. And in the meantime, let me have faith for both of us."

"I can do that." She nodded, then tentatively smiled at him. He really had changed, and she would bet he wasn't even aware of it.

"Besides, we haven't even explored any of the other options. Maybe we should start by seeing a fertility specialist, get some opinions?"

He was right, of course. He had offered it before, his help, his support, and she had pretty much ignored it. She had been thinking about it constantly, she just didn't let him know. But now, with last night's diagnosis, things were different. Or they could be, at least.

"I want to say Thank you, Harm. Thanks for not giving up on me, for being there, and for finding all this information, even though I said I couldn't do it."

He didn't want to be thanked for it, it wasn't necessary. But he had always questioned why she had said no back then, well, apart from the obvious reason, his incredibly unfortunate timing. It had hurt, and more than once he had wondered whether it was too late for them, based on this one sentence.

"So why did you say you couldn't do it, back then at the Admiral's Dining Out?"

She left out all the obvious reasons. There was no need to say that back then, it was too early, that everything was too fresh, that she didn't want him to feel as if he were her fallback guy. There was just one answer that made perfect sense at this very moment.

"Because I love you." She looked at him, and their gazes locked. It felt so good to have finally admitted her true feelings. The familiar warmth spread through her again, all the way down to her toes and fingertips. His proximity was her slow undoing. When had they scooted so close together anyways?

His mind was reeling. For so long, he had hoped that it was true. Looking back upon their years together, there were times when he was sure that was what she felt, and back then he was too dense to realize his own feelings, or too afraid to act on them. And now she had said it, just like that. And again, he didn't get her logic.

"Why push me away then?" He rasped at her. When had the space between them diminished like that? He noticed her chest heaving rapidly. An almost palpable tension was coiling between them, pulling them closer and closer together, like magnets, with no escape. And by God, why would he want one.

"Because I love you so much that I wanted someone better for you than me." Her beautiful eyes were melting him. He couldn't believe she thought she wasn't good enough for him. She was such an incredible woman; passionate and feisty, loving and caring, smart and funny, not to mention drop-dead-gorgeous. He usually had trouble seeing why she might want to be with him.

"But every time I so much as looked at another woman, you'd rage with jealousy." His voice had reduced to a soft whisper.

She grinned at that, putting this cute wrinkle in her nose again. "Well, I never said logic had anything to do with it! My head and my heart were saying two very different things."

"There's just one fundamental flaw: You never asked me what _I_ wanted. I'm a big boy; I can make my own decisions." He was daring her to ask it now, so he could make a statement of his own. His hand wandered up and tenderly held her chin, bringing their faces ever closer together.

"What do you want?" She murmured. He could feel her breath fanning across his mouth. The low flame inside of him suddenly turned into a raging fire.

"You."

She was hardly able to form any coherent thoughts. He wanted her, and it filled her with a need so powerful it almost made her whimper. Barely aware of her own actions, she pulled her hand free of his, and then brought both her arms around his neck. Her eyes wanted to close on their own accord, succumbing to the sensations, but she fought it; she needed to see him, needed to revel in the passion and desire she could read in his eyes.

"Why?" She whispered almost breathlessly.

His hand had wandered to the back of her head, the other one around her waist and to the small of her back. He pulled her closer still, their bodies almost touching. The small space left between them zinging with heat and electricity.

"Because I love you, too." And then their lips came together. Achingly slow, at first, barely touching. He was afraid he might hurt her.

She whimpered. It was more than she'd ever hoped for, and it wasn't nearly enough. Her face was tender, bruised, but none of that mattered.

"Kiss me," she sighed against his lips, "I won't break…"

And so he did. His lips moved over hers in a slow exploration, gently rubbing until she opened them up to him. Their tongues met and danced, gave and took, searched and found. The sensations were overwhelming, desire unfurled, spiraling them into a world as yet undiscovered. She tasted like honey and he knew he'd never get enough of her, for the rest of his life.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Kissing him was so achingly sweet. Passion and tenderness, an intoxicating combination. She wanted to drown in it and never come up for air again. Yet there was still a little something nibbling at the back of her mind, something she needed to say so there'd be no more second-guessing between the two of them, ever. She pulled away and laid her forehead against his.

"Maybe we should declare our deal null and void?" The instant the words left her mouth, she felt him tense up and she knew she should have phrased them differently. It was what she wanted, but she needed him to see why she wanted it, what it meant. So she took his face in both her hands and implored him to look at her, before he would misunderstand and shut her out.

A feeling of dread had crept into his belly when she said those words. His first instinct was flight, because he had thought it's what they both wanted and he couldn't believe that she didn't. Yet she made him look at her, and when he gazed into her eyes, her beautiful, molten chocolate eyes, he found such warmth and love in them that he knew there was more to this than the words he'd heard, and he needed to listen because their future happiness depended on it.

He didn't need to ask 'why,' the question was written all over his face.

"Because I want you, and I want _everything_ with you, not just a child but the whole package, the happily ever after – and not because of a deal we made more than five years ago, but because it is something we both want now. Our relationship shouldn't be built around the promise of a child; it should be build around us." Her fingertips were whispering over his face, following his features; her smile soft and reassuring.

He didn't think he had ever been so happy. She loved him, and she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. It was the best present he'd ever gotten. And she was right; it should be about them first, and together, they could tackle everything. It was only right to reconfirm it for her.

"Maybe we should have a new deal?"

"What do you mean?" She asked wearily.

"Well, we could agree to spend the rest of our lives together…"

She gasped. "Was that a proposal?"

"Would you say yes if it was?"

She grinned at his M.O. and lifted one eyebrow at him.

"No more answering questions with a counter question, counselor," she mockingly scolded him.

"In that case, no it wasn't." She looked so crushed that he immediately slid off the couch and onto the floor, coming to kneel in front of her.

"This is." He announced. He took both of her hands in his and looked up at her, finding her eyes with his.

"I know this might seem rushed, although other people might consider eight years quite a long time to wait, but well, you know what I mean…" He knew he was rambling, but he hadn't planned to do this tonight. Yet the way their conversation had developed, it would have been foolish to let the moment pass by, and there had been enough foolishness by the two of them over the years.

"Sarah, finding you at the hospital after this accident that almost got you killed, or these last past months when we were distant, then closer, then distant again… Hell everything after the Singer fiasco and our fallout from Paraguay… it was pure agony!" A look of guilt crossed her face, and he quickly forged on to squelch it. To make her understand, just like he did, that it no longer mattered, that their past no longer had any hold over their lives and their future.

"There's no point in rehashing the past, but now that we've figured out what's important, I think maybe it's time we head into our future. We're long overdue. I want everything you want, the whole package, the happily ever after. And I want it with you. Only with you."

Okay, deep breath, and out with it.

"Sarah, will you marry me?"

For a moment, all was silent. She stared at him, tears streaming down her face. Then a brilliant smile broke across her face.

"Yes." She nodded vigorously and wiped her cheeks. "Yes, yes, yes…" She slid off the couch so they were front to front, both kneeling on the floor. Her arms came around his neck, and he pulled her closer with his hands on her waist. He peppered kisses over her face, tender kisses that wiped away the remnants of her tears with his lips.

"I don't have a ring…" It suddenly occurred to him.

She kissed him back. On his forehead, across his brows, on the corners of his mouth. "I don't need a ring." She had everything she'd ever wanted right here in her arms.

"I have lots of love!" He whispered, tenderly rubbing the tip of her nose with his.

"Love I need." She sighed, and then their lips came together once more, in a soul-searching kiss that sealed their future.

**-- -- -- -- -- -- **

There were children later-on. But first there was a ring, and despite her claim that she didn't need it, she felt like the most treasured woman in the world when he slid the sparkling creation on her finger. There were career-decisions to make. There was a small wedding, with a beautiful white strapless gown, and close friends and family, and dress whites and an arch of swords, including the customary swat on her behind. A Honeymoon in the most beautiful surroundings and they hardly ever left their suite. There were visits with fertility specialists, followed by long discussions at home.

There was a quaint old Victorian house that needed so much work that whenever Harm was finished renovating something on one side, he could restart on the other, and he loved every bit of it. There were nights huddled together under a blanket in front of the fireplace, talking till the wee hours of the morning. And then there was a pregnancy, and later-on, unexpectedly, even a second. Their girl came first; she had his eyes and her smile, and the most gorgeous blond hair, taking after Harm's mother, they thought. Their little boy had her eyes and his smile, was born way too early, worrying them quite a lot for a couple of weeks, and he had inherited his father's adorable crooked ear. They were both tall and rambunctious, and their brains were completely their own.

And every Christmas Eve, she would look back at that decisive night; pondering fate and silently thanking a car accident and a doctor that had both jump-started the rest of her life, and it was better than she had ever imagined. Joyful and triumphant indeed.

_THE END_


End file.
